Owen looked over at the African American boy. He was strong and muscular, at least a year older than himself. They were both searching through the same bag, looking for a bottle of water.

The sky was ominously darkening, and it made Owen nervous about when the rescue planes were going to arrive. "Hey," he said to the African American boy. He looked up. Owen held out a hand. "I'm Owen."

"Michael," the boy took his hand and shook. As if inspired by Owen's introduction, Michael went on, "How long do you think it will be before they come?"

"What do you mean?" Owen took out a blue t-shirt and tucked it in his pocket.

"The rescue planes," Michael explained. Owen looked up at him. It was as if he'd just read his mind.

"It won't be long now," Owen reassured him. His hand dove into the bag once again. Suddenly, he didn't feel something like cloth, something soft. It was hard, and when he pressed down on it there was a crackling noise. "Water!" he exclaimed.

Everyone instantaneously looked up and ran over. "Let me have it!" the blonde girl exclaimed. The tall, dark, punk seventeen-year-old stepped forward and looked down at Owen. He took a wary step back; the guy's work of intimidation was working.

"I'm so thirsty!" said the little boy wearing a hat. He looked about thirteen, not much older than the girl the Asian girl had been sitting with. "I say I should get it! I'm the youngest!" Owen hid the water behind his back so that the tall, gothic boy couldn't grab it from him. This was going to be a hard decision to make.

"I should get it! I'm about to faint!" the blonde complained. Owen looked her up and down. Even with her messy blonde hair and mud staining her cheeks, she still looked awfully attractive. He couldn't help being tempted to give the water to her.

"It should be mine," the tall goth said darkly. Owen exchanged a nervous glance with the blonde girl.

"Hey, man, calm down." Owen put out a hand as a sign of peace. The last thing any of them wanted was to become enemies with such a muscular looking, dark guy. The makeup from his eyes was stained on his face.

"Please, I'm just so thirsty," the blonde whined again.

"It's mine!" Michael said defensively. Owen tucked it into his back pocket, prepared for the fight that was about to break out. He hoped desperately that the rescue plane was about to fly by soon. Otherwise, they might kill each other before rescue even arrived.

Owen looked around and sat down. Reluctantly, he saw that Kat had moved away from him and gone to find a seat somewhere else. The only reason he'd come on this stupid trip was because of her. He couldn't let her live a glamorous life in Hawaii learning how to become a doctor while he sat idly by waiting for a college scholarship. She was much too competitive with him to let something like that go.

He could just see her, coming back from Hawaii with a terrific tan and laughing at him as she went off to college before she was even a junior. She wasn't even sixteen; he was older than she was and she didn't deserve this any more than he did. So he decided to talk to the committee and find a way to get him on that plane. He hated her, he was sure of that, but there was no other way of getting back at her. She was self-righteous and snobbish and much too full of herself, and he hadn't been looking forward to sitting on a plane with her for hours on end. Luckily, she had already moved away and he was sure that she wouldn't be coming back.

He'd gotten her to believe that he didn't even know she had a scholarship until he'd already gotten it. He was pretty sure it had worked, but there was always that suspicion that Kat was too intelligent for his games. She seemed to act like she didn't get what he'd done, but he was ready for her to play games too.

"Hey, man, you got a tissue?"

Owen turned to a tall, muscular guy with dark makeup on. He couldn't help widening his eyes and slowly shaking his head. Of course, this was a problem. Kat was probably sitting with some cute boy that she was flirting with and he had to spend his time next to this tall dark ghost that was paler than the color white.

"Dude, move," he said. Owen obliged and stood up so that the guy could go and get a tissue from the bathroom. He left his black bag on the seat beside him.

He heard giggling over from where Kat had sat, and suspected that he had been correct: she was flirting. She always did this; flirted with some random guy in front of him to prove a point. Owen, after all, had said a thousand times that Kat wasn't attractive in the least and she never had a chance. That wasn't, in his part, true, though he would never admit it. He couldn't help wanting to get up and see who she was sitting with.

But he held himself down. This would only make Kat even more sure of herself, and she didn't need more confidence. A tall, gangly man wearing a baggy sweatshirt trudged past him, up to the cockpit where the pilot was driving the plane. Owen figured he was going to the bathroom.

That was when Kat came across the aisle towards him. She looked almost aggravated. Owen couldn't help being smug; the guy she was sitting with mustn't have worked out. "Hey," he said, trying not to giggle himself.

"You know that I know what's going on, right?" Her brow was wrinkled as she said this. Owen tried to act dumb, but he knew this conversation would come up eventually.

"No. What's going on?" he asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible. It wasn't making Kat's attitude anymore pleasant, but he was enjoying it at the moment. He found pleasure in making her squirm, though he didn't know exactly why.

"I know that—" she paused as the plane jerked a bit to the left. Owen looked around, a bit confused as the seatbelt sign blinked on and the announcer over the loudspeaker asked everyone to buckle their seatbelts. Kat didn't listen.

"What is going on?" someone shrieked from across the aisle where Kat had been sitting as the plane lurched again. Apparently she hadn't been sitting with a boy. The movements of the plane became more jerky and the lurches more intense. Things began shifting out of their shelves.

Owen turned his head as a suitcase hit a man on the head and he began to bleed. Blood spattered everywhere. People were screaming and looking around frantically, wondering what was happening. The plane lurched again, even larger than the others and Kat almost fell to the aisle floor. She had to hold onto the arms of the seats to get her balance.

"Owen!" she screamed desperately. Owen unbuckled himself and guided her into his lap, where he wrapped the buckle around both of them. He barely remembered doing so, but it was in the spur of the moment.

A horrible sucking sound, like a nuclear vacuum roared in Owen's ear as he realized that the back of the plane had torn off. Kat was struggling in his lap as the oxygen masks popped out of the compartments in the ceiling. They both grabbed them, Kat taking the one of the gothic guy who had been sitting next to Owen.

He couldn't help remembering at this moment, waking up and being underneath Kat. How strange that had been, and he was surprised she'd stayed there for a moment.

He snapped back to reality as the gothic guy shoved him to the ground.

"Hey!"

Everyone looked over to where Kat was standing. She was holding another bottle in her small, delicate hands. It was half filled with water, where as Owen's was full. "What are you," she accused, "animals?" Everyone looked around at each other, suddenly realizing how they'd been acting over a bottle of water. Owen stood up and brushed the sand off of his jeans, taking the bottle out of his pocket and holding it close to his stomach so that no one could snatch it before the dispute was settled.

"The rescue planes will be here any time now," Kat continued. She'd grabbed everyone's attention with her strong voice and important, majestic presence. Owen couldn't help wishing he had the power to do something like that. Kat entered the circle of people that had almost become a fracas, looking around at each of them in turn. She went on, "We can't let ourselves turn into savages just because of one day stranded on an island. We're not alone. We won't go crazy. Not if we work together."

"We don't even know each other," a dark-skinned boy pointed out.

"Well maybe it's time we do. But first, we decide who gets the water," Kat decided. Everyone nodded in agreement, except for Owen. He looked around at everyone, and couldn't help noticing that one girl from before was missing.

"Help! Help!"

All of them looked around frantically to see where the call was coming from. The Asian girl that Owen recognized as the one who had been missing shoved through into the circle and said in a shaking voice, "She's dehydrated. We need water for her!" Kat looked down at the bottle in her hand.

"Lead me to her."

"Who?" the little thirteen-year-old boy said. No one answered him as Kat and the Asian girl rushed down the beach to a small shape in the sand. Owen and the dark-skinned boy that had announced the last adult's death followed, a bit slower.

"Come on, come on," Kat urged. She dipped the nozzle of the bottle into a little girl's mouth. She looked absolutely horrible. The skin below her eyes looked raw and dry and there was a deep gash on her cheek. Kat took a bottle of antiseptic out of her pocket and put it on the girl's cheek.

"Where has she been, Marissa?" Kat asked the Asian girl.

"She was sitting here all alone before, and she wouldn't talk to me no matter what I said." Marissa seemed to be speaking very quickly, almost too fast for Owen to understand. "I don't know what was wrong with her. Probably shock. But she was always sitting up. Then, she suddenly collapsed and wouldn't move or open her eyes."

"It's dehydration," Kat concluded. The girl let out a small squeak, as if she was trying to speak to them. Owen blinked, kneeling down beside Kat. He grabbed the bottle as she tucked the hair out of the girl's eyes. Owen gave it to her in small sips so that he wouldn't overwhelm her.

After the fifth sip, the girl coughed and sputtered and choked on the water while jerking her head up. Owen sighed. He'd thought she was a goner. He gave the bottle to her and said, "Drink it in small sips. There ya go." Her brown eyes were wide with panic and shock; she was most likely wondering where she was.

Owen looked to Kat for thanks, but she moved so that the girl could put her head in her lap. "It's alright. You're okay now. Don't worry."

"Mommy…" she said softly. Owen exchanged a nervous glance with Marissa. He recognized that voice, from the whining girl a few rows ahead.

But none of the adults had survived.

"She's going to be okay?" Marissa questioned hopefully.

"Yeah," Kat said weakly, as if she almost didn't believe it herself. She let out a sigh and brushed her fingers through the girl's hair. "Drink some more water, sweetie." The girl put the bottle to her lips and took tiny sips.

"I'll take it from here," Marissa reassured them, taking the girl's head from Kat's lap and laying it in her own. "I'll make sure she's okay."

They all nodded. The dark-skinned boy stood up and left before anyone else. Kat looked a bit wary to let Marissa stay with the little girl alone, but she stood up anyways. Just as Owen turned to leave, he heard Marissa ask, "So what's your name?"

"Hailey…" the girl said weakly. "Hailey Paccara."

Owen sighed and looked out at the setting sun as he reached the others. Everyone had already lied down, as if it had been publicly announced that it was time to sleep. Owen laid down himself; all of them were exhausted from the crash. It was so rare and unexpected. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about it, but what else was there to think about?